User blog comment:Brigadier Barty/Tavern of the Rusted Claw/@comment-32303-20150818195830

''Branna bows respecfully to Valzevere and waits calmly for further instructions, running a pawnail over her new weapon. "Sempta. . . . ye choose guid blades, but cannae think frae naethin," she murmurs to herself, looking over to the fallen searat. The stoat grins. ''